


Handfast

by pearl_o



Series: Nuptials [2]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Celebrations, Future Fic, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some promises, as it happens, are not so much broken as postponed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).



> To my very dear pocky_slash, for the anniversary of her birth. My experience in this fandom wouldn't be half as great without your friendship and support. <3 
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry I made you beta your own present.)

In his youth Charles had imagined, once or twice, what it might be like to be part of a stag party. Scantily-clad women, alcohol in abundance, and of course that spirit of camaraderie and brotherhood. 

It had been a distant sort of imagining, and probably a rather romanticized one, for as fond as Charles was of most people, he didn't tend to get very close to many. It was hard to, when such an important and central part of him was so hidden to everyone but Raven.

It occurred to him, sitting next to Erik on a private bed in a strip joint in America, smiling at a lovely young mutant, that this night had all of the elements he might have pictured back then: beautiful girls, booze, and even that friendship, that seemingly magical bond invisibly tying oneself to another person--

And his and Erik's shoulders touched, and the full length of their legs, and he felt a surge of joy through his chest. Erik gave him another half-smile, and Charles couldn't help but smirk at him in return. The most attractive person in the entire club was coming back to Charles's hotel with him tonight -- and again tomorrow, and the night after that, if Charles had anything to say about it, and he rather thought he did. 

"Enjoying yourself, Charles?" Erik inquired, sotto voce.

"I'm having a ball, my dear," Charles replied sunnily, and he took another swig of his champagne. The bubbles popped on his tongue, sweet and effervescent, like a promise to be savored.

* * *

Some promises, as it happens, are not so much broken as postponed.

* * *

He never has an actual stag party of his own, of course. The very idea makes him chuckle. But Ororo organizes a shower from the staff, with tasteful presents, cake, and mimosas. If most of the people are somewhere between confused and slightly disapproving or sad, they are supportive nonetheless, and Charles can read the sincerity of their wishes for his happiness in his new life. Even the students get involved, in a way, presenting him with a card on his last day at the school: baby blue with _Congratulations_ inscribed on the front, blank on the inside, oversized to fit all of their messy scrawled signatures.

If he doesn't tear up, it's a close thing

* * *

It wasn't as though Charles had waited for Erik, all of those years. He had other relationships, other chances. Serious ones. Had even come close to marriage, once or twice, though never quite reaching the point of that final step. 

In hindsight, he can't say why, precisely. A clash in careers and responsibilities. A vague feeling of not-quite-right. 

There's a possibility that Charles doesn't like to consider. In 1973, he went back in Logan's mind and saw his older self -- saw, too, Erik there beside him, the two of them devoted and together at the end of the world. Perhaps his subconscious had clung to that to that, all these years, waiting for this day. Rejecting all those other possible courses of his life for the chance that this one might come.

His younger self might have found the idea romantic, Charles knows, and Erik almost certainly _still_ would. Charles himself finds the idea rather dismal, in truth.

No. They had lost each other, and they found each other again -- repeated the cycle more than once, in fact. That is all of it, really. For a brief moment in 1962, Charles had been infatuated to the point that Erik seemed like everything, and when it turned out to be untrue, it crushed him. It had crushed Erik, too, though it took Charles a much longer time to realize it. 

Marriage is, Charles thinks, a partnership, friendship, companionship -- but most of all it is one person saying to another _You are the most important thing. I choose you_. 

It's only now, with the wisdom of their age, that they've learned that balance might be achieved.

* * *

Wanda comes to see him one afternoon, a few weeks before the wedding. They'e halfway through tea before they move past pleasantries to the topic that brought her. While Charles has always been rather fond of her, they aren't so close as to be on pop-in visit terms. But Erik's daughter doesn't dither around endlessly, either.

"I don't understand why you are marrying him," she says, setting her cup down in the saucer, decisive and careful, and folding her hands in her lap. 

Charles sets his own tea down as he considers. There are any number of answers he could make, really, and all of them true. 

He begins, then, with the most obvious. "It's not really any of your business," he says, raising his eyebrows but leaving his tone gentle in contrast to the firm words. 

A little color rises in Wanda's cheeks, but her gaze doesn't waver. Charles _does_ like her. How strange to think she'll be his stepdaughter. 

After a moment, Charles goes on, "I do love him, you know. And I think we'll be happy."

He does, too; that was the hell of it. After fifty years, after all they've gone through, Charles is certain that this is going to work. He cannot, perhaps, point specifically to the source of his knowledge, but it's there, nonetheless. It will be hard work, yes, but they're both committed to it. They both want the same thing, now, at last, and they want it together.

Charles could be happy even if they didn't marry. He knows that, too. He spent enough time learning how to be happy without Erik around, and he had succeeded overwhelminingly. He loves his school; he loves his life's work.

Erik, on the other hand...

"I think your father could use some happiness in his life," Charles says. "He's not had much, you know."

Wanda isn't a teenager anymore, but the obvious skepticism on her face brings back memories of a thousand classes staring back at him blankly. 

Charles shakes his head and picks his tea back up. "You have good and valid reasons for resenting him." An understatement, if there ever was one. Erik has made any number of bad, wrong, and harmful choices in his life. But Charles can't help but add, nonetheless, "But it has never been selfishness that's driven him."

He's trying to tell her something important, but he doesn't think he manages; Wanda merely frowns at him. Even the furrow of her brow reminds him of Erik, with his one-track mind today. Wanda says, "I don't want to discuss my relationship with him."

"Hm," Charles says, inwardly amused by the irony, "agreed. Whatever shall we discuss instead?"

He gives her a gracious smile, and takes another muffin.

* * *

"If you're going to say no, just say it already," Erik said in a snappish voice.

Charles's gaze jerked up from where it had been fixed on the ringbox in Erik's palm, up to Erik's pinched face. "Give me a moment, won't you? It's not every day I get proposed to."

Erik's nostrils flared; his mouth was a straight line. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, where Charles had been reading before Erik arrived from outside the French windows a few minutes before. His hat was still on, and his shoes. Erik had been impatient, Charles realized, and was unduly charmed by the knowledge. He wondered if Erik had only made the decision a few hours before, and come immediately to carry it out. He wouldn't be surprised.

From the outside Erik's mind was all roiling agitation. Charles tried to hide his smile as he reached out, cupping Erik's face with his hand. 

"You must know what I'm going to say," Charles said softly. "You wouldn't have done it otherwise."

Erik's face was still hard, but he was leaning into the touch, and after a moment his eyes closed. "You're wrong," he muttered. "Even if I thought you'd say no, as long as there was still the slightest possibility..."

Charles couldn't talk for a moment, seized with emotion. _You bastard_ , he thought fondly. _You perfectly lovely bastard._

"Yes," Charles said finally. Erik's eyes blinked open, staring back at him. "Yes, of course, Erik. Let's get married."

* * *

Raven takes them out to lunch at a little cafe after the ceremony. Sixty years ago there was an Italian restaurant on this same site, and Charles brought her here the night before they left the US for Oxford, introduced her to the so-exotic veal parmigiana and linguine with clam sauce. It had only been a few days since they had left the Westchester mansion -- for good, they had said -- and they were both giddy with it still, the freedom and the possibilities that lay before them. They'd walked arm-in-arm back to the hotel (which was long gone as well, decades ago now) and Charles had been as happy as he could ever remember being.

Their lives may have passed in strange and unexpected directions, nothing like they could have imagined then, but Charles is fairly certain he's even happier now.

The cafe is dark and cool in contrast to the heat and sunlight of the New York summer outside. They drink sangria by the pitcher, graze on salads and sandwiches. Raven tells anecdotes, embarrassing and touching by turn; Erik makes dry-as-dust jokes that grow ever-so-slightly filthier as he drinks; and Charles, for once in his life, doesn't talk too much. His face hurts from smiling and laughing. He looks down at his ring more than is strictly necessary. When Erik notices, out of the corner of his eye, he reaches out and laces his own fingers in with Charles's, squeezing tightly.

"And now what?" Raven says, refilling the glasses. "What's next?"

"Next," Charles says, "is everything."


End file.
